


when i dance with you

by gothyringwald



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Dancing, Dancing Lessons, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-30 18:18:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15102305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothyringwald/pseuds/gothyringwald
Summary: The whole gang is having a picnic lunch at Percival's country house and when Queenie realises Credence doesn't know how to dance she decides it's about time he learnt. She teaches him the Charleston and the Black Bottom but when Percival walks in on their dance lesson, and Queenie convinces Percival to take over, Credence soon finds dancing isn't all he's going to learn about that afternoon.





	when i dance with you

**Author's Note:**

> Well, look at that—I'm posting gradence, again! (Probably just a one off, but hey, it's nice to get back to it even just for that). I started this one back in February last year but shelved it out of frustration. I recently had another look at it and realised it was actually nearly finished so, with a few tweaks, here it is!

A warm breeze blows through the open window, ruffling Credence's hair, cooling the sweat beading at the base of his neck. It catches the hem of Queenie's cornflower blue dress as she twirls around the floor. She looks so beautiful, makes Credence feel ungainly and awkward as he remembers his own attempts at mirroring her moves, just moments ago. It had been fun, though, despite his clumsiness. But for now he is content just to watch Queenie as she dances, eyes closed, a serene smile gracing her lips. 

She sings along with the song on the phonograph, her voice as sweet as her smile. Credence wishes he could be that free.

Queenie stops when the record does and turns a small frown on Credence. She takes his hands, tugging gently and he moves with her, back into the middle of the room. When the topic of dancing had been brought up, over lunch, Queenie's eyes had widened in Credence's direction, no doubt hearing his thoughts—'Oh, honey, everybody's gotta learn how to dance!'—and she promptly dragged him inside to teach him. She had rolled back the rug, put a song on the phonograph with an elegant swish of her wand and proceeded to show him various dances while Credence clumsily tried to keep up.

'Here, why don't you try this,' she says, and wiggles her shoulders. 'It's called a shimmy.' 

Credence blushes and shakes his head. The other dances were fine, he guesses, but he couldn't possibly do that.

'Aww, c'mon, honey,' Queenie says, arms held out imploringly. 'Just one little shimmy. It's fun.' She shakes her shoulders, again, grinning widely, and winks at Credence. She puts a new song on with another flick of her wand, eyes sparkling in the late afternoon light.

Credence bites his lip. 'I'd feel silly,' he says. 'The Charleston was fun. Can't we do that, again?' 

Queenie only smiles, impossibly wider, and shimmies again, turning on the spot in time to the music playing on the phonograph. 'It's freeing, trust me. Give it a try.'

Credence sighs. There's no one here but Queenie to see him—everyone else is outside, in the sun, laughing and drinking—so what harm can it do? 

'OK, just one.' He sucks in a deep breath and closes his eyes. He holds his arms out to either side and wriggles his shoulders in an approximation of what Queenie had done. Freeing isn't exactly the word he would use, but he doesn't feel as silly as he'd thought he would. It was almost nice. But he doesn't want to do it again.

'There, it's done,' Credence says. 'Satisfied?' 

There is only silence, so Credence opens his eyes and finds that Queenie isn't looking at him, but behind him. She lets out a bright peal of laughter, then covers her mouth with her hand. Credence pales, frozen in place, as a deep voice says, 'What's this, the grizzly bear?'

Credence wonders if there's a spell to make the floor open up and swallow him whole. Maybe if he thinks it hard enough, it will just happen. But it doesn't. So, heart thudding, he slowly turns and finds Percival leaning against the jamb, arms crossed, one brow quirked. 

'It looked very charming,' Percival adds with a wry twist of his lips.

Credence's stomach swoops when Percival says 'charming' but he only repeats, 'Grizzly bear?' There is a buzzing in his ears. His face is so hot he's sure they could cook the hot dogs they're going to have for lunch on it. His fingers are tingling.

'No one does the grizzly bear anymore, Mr Graves,' Queenie says, waving her hand. 'Not for at least a decade.'

Percival pushes off the door frame, moving further into the room. 'I've always preferred a foxtrot, myself.'

'I thought you didn't like to dance,' Credence says, frowning. 'That's what you said outside.'

'Ah, well, if I _must_ dance...' Percival looks sheepish, now. 

'I only know what Queenie just taught me.' Credence swallows thickly, wondering how he hasn't yet combusted. He feels warm enough. 'The Charleston and the Black Bottom.'

Percival frowns, perplexed. Credence supposes he mustn't be familiar with the modern dances.

'Credence is a good dancer,' Queenie says. 'Just gotta loosen up.' She squeezes Credence's arm. 'I'm getting awful tired, though,' she adds, suddenly drooping. She feigns a yawn. Credence's eyes narrow. A bright smile spreads across Queenie's face. 'Why don't you teach him to foxtrot, Mr Graves?'

Credence's heart leaps into his throat. He starts to protest but Percival only shrugs again, looking a little shy as he says, 'Of course. That is...if you want to, Credence?'

Credence nods and snaps his gaping mouth shut. He swallows. 'Yes?'

Percival turns to where Queenie is perched on the edge of a couch, one leg crossed over the other, foot swinging. She's smiling with delight.

'I don't require an audience, Miss Goldstein,' he says, making a shooing motion with his hand. 'Why don't you join your beau, outside?'

Queenie smiles. 'Sure thing. Have fun you two.' She winks at Credence over her shoulder as she leaves. How can someone so sweet be so evil, Credence thinks miserably, then turns back to Percival. 

'Music!' Credence blurts.

Percival blinks.

'It's stopped,' Credence explains. Why is he still talking? He wrings his hands and turns to the phonograph to change the record, then stops. 'I don't know which songs you can foxtrot to.' 

Percival moves past him. 'Here, let me have a look.' He frowns down at the scattered pile of records by the phonograph. 'Hmm, I don't know any of these songs well. But you can foxtrot to almost anything.' He flicks through them, setting several aside. 'Ah, this one even says foxtrot on the label.' He taps the red label where it does, indeed, say 'foxtrot' then levitates the record to the phonograph. It settles onto the turntable, which starts spinning with a soft, whirring sound.

The needle hisses over the record, speakers crackling, as Percival and Credence stand three feet apart, staring at each other. 

'You don't have to do this,' Credence says. He jumps when the song starts with a blare of trumpets.

'It's fine. I want to.' Percival tugs at his collar. 'Unless you don't want to?'

Credence shakes his head. 'I mean, yes. I want to.'

Percival smiles and Credence's heart flips. He wipes hands on his pants, then takes Percival's own outstretched hand. Palms touching, fingers curling together. Percival pulls him close, just as Credence steps forward. They collide with a little too much force, chests bumping, knees knocking.

'Sorry,' Credence murmurs.

'It's OK,' Percival says. 'It was my fault.'

Credence shakes his head, then sucks in a breath as Percival slides his arm around his back, hand splayed between his shoulder blades. It feels hotter than the yellow sun that burns bright, peeking through the sash window.

'I only know how to lead,' Percival says. 'Sorry.'

'That's fine. So did Queenie.'

Percival huffs and then urges Credence into motion with the hand on his back. He tells Credence to relax, but it is easier said than done, Credence thinks, when they are closer than they ever have been. Perhaps if Percival were less handsome, if he didn't smell so good or have such a lovely voice, Credence might find it easier to relax.

As they move around the living room, Credence marvels that he hasn't tripped over his own feet, though he does step on Percival's toes more than once, apologising profusely each time.

'Don't worry, Credence,' Percival says, voice deep and low. 'I've had worse happen to me, after all.'

Credence frowns. He hates when Percival jokes about everything he's been through. But Credence's frown melts when he sees the smile on Percival's face—his smiles are rare and Credence cherishes each and every one.

The smile stokes the flame that has kindled in Credence's belly, warming him as much as the balmy air and the closeness of Percival does. They are touching all along their fronts, heat bleeding through the cotton of Credence's shirt, his flannel trousers. Credence's mouth is dry, and his armpits are damp.

The breeze stirs around them, again, bringing with it the scent of honeysuckle. Sweet and enticing, though not as enticing as the scent of Percival's cologne, Credence thinks, swaying a little closer.

'They used to call me Foxtrot Graves,' Percival says, suddenly.

'What?' Credence pulls back from where he's leaned into Percival. Percival's face is still so close to his, though. Credence's gaze darts to his mouth.

'Went undercover in a dance studio, once,' Percival explains as he turns them slowly. Credence senses a backstory, there, he desperately wishes to know. One day he hopes he will, hopes he will know everything about Percival. There is a twinkle in Percival's eye as he adds, 'Of course, I hexed everyone who called me that.'

Credence laughs, momentarily distracted from the feeling of Percival's hand on his back, their hips close together. The laughter eases the tension in his chest, and he manages to follow Percival's lead without stepping on his feet, or stumbling, again.

They dance through several songs, Percival changing the phonograph records with an absent flick of his wrist, barely letting go of Credence as he does. It feels like they move closer with each step, though they had been so close to begin with. Credence is still impossibly warm but it's not so unpleasant, now. The heat builds to something new and familiar, all at once, pooling at the base of his spine. Percival's hand slips from his shoulder, down to his waist. Credence swallows and licks his lips.

'Credence...' Percival starts, eyes dark in the soft light of the room. Is he looking at Credence's mouth?

'Yes?' says Credence, and he's certain Percival leans closer. 

Credence catches another whiff of his cologne, the sharp scent of sweat. A strange feeling builds in Credence's stomach, pulsing up through his chest. He's never been kissed, before, but he thinks Percival might be about to kiss him, now.

But then—'You fellas doing OK?' comes Queenie's voice from the doorway.

Credence jerks away, crossing his arms over his chest. Percival's hand falls from his waist.

'We were doing just fine, Miss Goldstein,' Percival says, with a hint of annoyance.

'Food's just about ready, is all,' Queenie says, eyes twinkling like she knows exactly what was happening. Credence wishes _he_ knew.

'Oh,' says Credence, shoulders sagging. The dance lesson is over, it seems. He follows Queenie from the room, hesitantly but Percival is close behind, his hand on the small of Credence's back.

They pause at the door, neither man seeming ready to leave the refuge of the house, just yet. Queenie is already outside, hair shining golden in the bright sun, helping Jacob serve the hot dogs, while Newt and Tina set the picnic table.

Percival leans close, cheek brushing Credence's. 'We can continue the dance lessons at home,' he says, voice low, 'if you'd like.'

Breath rushing out of him all at once, Credence says, 'Yes please.'

Percival smiles and brushes past Credence to join everyone else outside, catching his hand briefly as he does. Credence watches him with a warm, happy feeling in his stomach. Percival looks up at him, lips quirking in a small, genuine smile that sets Credence's heart pounding. As he steps out into the sun to join the others for lunch, Credence wonders if it would be rude for them to leave as soon as they've eaten.

__

Jazz crackles through the speakers of Credence's prized wireless—Percival had bought it for Credence for his birthday, despite Credence's protestations that it was too much—when Credence flicks his wand in its direction. It still delights him to do such simple things with magic. Percival smiles and takes his hand, pulling him close, once more, so they can continue their dance lesson as Percival had promised they would.

Or, they intend to. But, with no one to interrupt them, they find that kissing is infinitely better than dancing. And Credence doesn't step on Percival's feet nearly so much when they kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :) You can find me on tumblr [@gothyringwald](http://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/) if you like but I'm mostly Stranger Things at the moment. (Always multi-fandom, though, but yeah)
> 
> Dances like Charleston and Black Bottom could be done solo or partnered, though we usually see them solo. I actually did a bunch of research, originally, but I don't know what I did with the links, now. But I think [this is the main site I referred to.](http://www.walternelson.com/dr/historical-dance) Oh, and the [grizzly bear was an early 20th century dance](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grizzly_Bear_\(dance\)). They had the cutest names for dances, then!
> 
> Title from/a reference to It Only Happens When I Dance With You by Irving Berlin


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